Tuesday, November 1, 2005, Newport Beach to Oceanside

Uneventful motor-sail, although again, we saw more dolphin-on-a-mission.  Breakfast, maybe????

Since there is no anchorage here, we signed up for a night at the county docks.  Fortunately, we had a few hours of warm sun, so I seized the opportunity to give the kids a bath with the new Pet Washer nozzle I’d purchased.  It worked great, getting under their fur so all the soap would rinse out.  Now they’re all fluffy and soft, and they smell nice! J

Wednesday, November 2, 2005, Oceanside to San Diego

“This is Warship 73 hailing the vessel at xx.xx.xxWest and xx.xx.xxNorth, off my port bow.”  The voice over the vhf was all business!  Fortunately, it wasn’t us they were calling.  I’d forgotten that from our last trip – San Diego is home to quite a naval fleet, and the “warships” are out all over the place.  Since the Homeland Security thing went into effect, you’ve got to stay a certain distance from them, so they are constantly hailing other boats to get out of their way – and trust me, you want to let those big guys have their way!  We also heard quite a few Coast Guard broadcasts alerting mariners to stay out of certain areas where the navy was conducting live fire operations.  Yikes!!!!

As we were entering the San Diego harbor, a navy jet took off – the noise alone was astounding – but it was so low, I could almost see the pilot’s white teeth flash in a grin!  Shade of Cruise in Top Gun.

We arrived at the “Police Docks” – the public docks for transients, just in time to get the last available slip.  We’re really fortunate because guest slips in this area are all at the hotel marinas, which run minimum of $75 per night.

It’s quite a little community here in the police docks.  The twenty five slips are all filled with cruisers who are heading south, just like we are.  Everyone waited until the Ha-Ha crowd cleared out before coming to San Diego.  You’ll recall, in 2003 we joined the Baha-Haha rally from San Diego to Cabo San Lucas – 123 boats.  This year, there are 140 boats!  I’ve been told those of us who are not joining the Baha Haha rally to go south are called the Boo-Hoo Hee Hees. J  We are like birds, in their southern migration.  There are hundreds – perhaps thousands – of boats heading south right now; the marinas are all at capacity.

It’s a little different being here though because every boat has people aboard.  Often, in other marinas, the guest boats are mixed with the permanent slip renters, so the resident boats are empty.  When we walked the dock our first evening here, everyone was out on the docks, or in their cockpit, working on boat projects or just enjoying the evening.  Activity everywhere!  And the boats – oh my, are their decks and rails loaded down!!!  Bicycles, buckets, barbeques, sails, surf boards, solar panels, jerry jugs, fenders, ropes, kayaks, dinghies, collected stuff.  There was one old ferro cement boat that was beyond belief.  I had to take a picture, just so you wouldn’t think I wasn’t exaggerating!  The sailor told Jeff this was the first time he’d been at a dock since he left in 1996, but I couldn’t believe he could actually sail with a boat so laden as his is!

Thursday, November 3, 2005, San Diego

The kids seem content.  They are sitting on the cabin top, enjoying the mild sun.  At last, we’re in sun – although the air is brisk.  We’re both getting excited about cruising to the warmer climate of Mexico.

We are in a slip right next to two pilot boats.  One hasn’t moved since we’ve been here, but they both run their engines periodically, and the other leaves at all times of night, so we get a lot of engine noise and diesel smell some nights.

Saturday, November 5, 2005, San Diego

Wow! Early Christmas!!!  My sister, Lisa, sent me a “care package” from home – some of her home-made jam and apple sauce, and two ponduse (Genovese fruit-studded sweet bread) from my mom (the ones she makes every holiday.)  Yum!!

Jeff rented a car for the week, so we’ve been running errands and trying to take care of everything before departing.  San Diego is the last stop before Mexico, and, typically, most of the cruisers do as we are doing – trying to finalize boat projects/repairs, get spare parts, and do as much as possible before heading across the border.  Many of the things can be done there as well, but it’s just so much easier when you speak the language. 

This evening we went to a comedy called Triple Espresso – what a zany show!  I laughed so hard, my cheeks hurt!  Afterwards we strolled the Gas Lamp Quarter studying all the menus to figure out where we wanted to eat dinner.  It’s so different from San Francisco, where there’s ALWAYS a wait.  Here, all the restaurants had open tables.  The competition must be fierce because there are restaurants one after the other along the streets.  On one block, we passed five Italian restaurants in a row!  We ate Italian. It was a lovely evening.  Until we got home.

It was about 2200 hours when we parked in the lot at the top of the dock ramp.  As soon as we opened the doors, we heard a dog barking furiously.  Hmmm…could that be Lucky?  No, can’t be, Lucky doesn’t do that.  Abbie can’t bark; laryngeal paralysis surgery put an end to that.  As we walked to the dock, who should come scampering up the ramp but little Miss Abbie, wagging her tail so hard her whole behind shimmied back and forth.  Oh no, not a good sign.  (I still haven’t figured out if it was just good timing, or if she actually sensed we were in the vicinity.)  That had to be Lucky making all that racket then, because he gets upset when Abbie gets off the boat when she’s not supposed to: “Oh no, Dad’s going to get mad.”  Funny how she can climb out when she wants to, but when we’re there, she can’t seem to get her short, little legs up that companionway!  Sure enough, when we got closer to our section of the dock, the barking stopped. 

I climbed aboard to get ready for bed and realized we’d forgotten to leave a light on for the kids – not that they’re going to be reading or anything – so it was dark below.  I made my way into my usual first stop, the galley, and as I reached the far counter, I kicked something on the floor.  Lights on.  OH NO!!!!!!   Pondusa crumbs all over the floor!!!!  One 90% gone, and the other with a big gouge in it!!!  THAT STINKER!!!!!!!!   She doesn’t seem tall enough to reach the counter, and has never done anything like that before, but it HAD to be her!!!  ARRRRUGH!!!  She has a way of letting me know she’s unhappy with me!  Six hours alone was, in her opinion, too long!!!

Sunday, November 6, 2005, San Diego

Yup.  That was Abbie.  During the night, she woke us to help her up the companionway to go potty.  This morning, ugh.  Pine nuts, candied fruit, and dog shit all over the deck………..ugly!  The joys of dog ownership………Jeff was “on duty,” so I was spared the drudge.

There are Farmers’ Markets almost every day of the week in this area.  The one we went to today actually had very little in the way of produce – only one aisle.  But there were two more aisles, mostly of pre-made foods, and quite a nice selection at that.  Lots of Middle Eastern foods, Mexican, dried beans and lentils, breads, good stuff! I took pride in my restraint; we just don’t have the space to put that stuff any more!

After the market, we took the kids to a dog beach on Coronado Island.  It was a riot to watch all the dogs!  As they would come to the beach, they’d bound to the water in sheer ecstasy – just for the joy of running.  Some were digging furiously in the sand, burying then “re-finding” their toys; others played fetch non-stop; some were involved in group play, some kind of tag game.  Lucky and Abbie kept pretty much to themselves though, and played with their water loopies.  A couple years ago we had to switch from tennis balls or Frisbees because it got to the point where they couldn’t see those types of toys in the water anymore.  The loopies float above the water, so they’re easily visible.  Lucky is definitely feeling his age.  As I watched some of the young labs leaping into the water to catch their ball, I realized how long it’s been since I’ve seen Lucky do that.  He used to keep that up all day long – or at least as long as you would play with him.  Today, after an hour, they were both all worn out.  Lucky even fell into the water one time, face first, totally drenched. Poor guy.

Tuesday, November 7, 2005, San Diego

Lucky’s picked up some kind of intestinal bug.  Ever since the beach, he’s had the runs, poor guy.  He always gets that after a beach visit because he takes in so much salt water, but it’s usually over the next day.  Jeff bought some anti-diarrheal medication for him; that should put a stop to it!

As it turned out, our sun only lasted a couple days.  The rest of the time, it’s been overcast and quite cool.  Since we’re at a dock, we run the electric heater to save diesel (is that environmentally unfriendly?).  In the evenings, Jeff tunes the XM Radio to his favorite station – Franks’ Place.  “Frank, and all his friends,” as the announcer says.  My mom would love this station!  They’ll play five or six Frank Sinatra recordings in a fifteen minute space, once in awhile a whole album.  Plus they play lots of Rosemary Clooney, Mel Torme, Ella Fitzgerald, Tony Bennet (my favorite), Dean Martin (I finally heard his original version of “Sway”- PERFECT for his smarmy style - maybe I can download it from itunes?), Nat Cole (they don’t include the “King”), Bobby Darin, Billy Eckstein, Dinah Washington, Dinah Shore, (unfortunately) and (pitifully) way too much Doris Day.  I’m getting to where I can recognize all the artists – old Mel, young Mel; old Rosemary, young Rosemary; I don’t know if that’s pathetic or hot stuff.

The XMRadio website says service is not available in Mexico, unless you’re close to the American border where you can pick up a signal.  In case we can’t get it, before we left Alameda, I downloaded the five file boxes of CD’s that we’d packed into our self-store when we sold the house. Plus I have some current stuff that I downloaded from i-tunes.  We should never be short of tunes this time.

Wednesday, November 8, 2005, San Diego

Lucky’s better, but now Abbie’s got it!!!  More meds.  Tomorrow we leave for Ensenada.  There are quite a few boats scheduled to leave from here today.  We’re SO excited!  At last, our “real cruise” is going to begin!!!  We’re going to a birthday party Saturday night.  I can’t remember if I mentioned before, our friend-of-a-friend, Paco Anda, lives in Ensenada, and it’s his party we’re attending.  Should be interesting – we don’t know anyone, and we don’t speak Spanish – can’t be anything but fun!!!  I’m hoping to visit some wineries and olive oil producers while we’re there, and take a week-long immersion Spanish course.  We’re about as ready to go as we can be – or so we think.

Thursday, November 9, 2005, San Diego

0500.  Alarm goes off.  It is raining, and the sky is still dark.  I don’t even have to “nudge” Jeff out like usual because we’re both anxious to get going.  We want to arrive in Ensenada while there’s still ample daylight because we don’t exactly know where we’ll find space to stay.  Anchoring is out of the question as the surge is horrendous.  We hope Baja Naval will find space for us in their marina, since we have an appointment with them for boat work at the end of the month.  There are two other marinas, both very expensive, and one is quite a ways outside of town, so that would be the last choice.  They’ll make reservations for you if you pay in advance, but there are no refunds.  HUMMPH!

0610. Jeff has already raised the main while at dock since there’s so little wind.  The main will help steady the boat in waves.  I cast off the last dock line.  We’re off.

0615.  The engine stops.  We are in the main channel, right next to the police station.  It won’t restart.  I’m at the helm.  With the main up, I have a tiny bit of hope that we can sail, but with little wind, I soon lose way-on, and consequently, my ability to steer.  We drift.  We drift closer to the rocks of the bank.  “Jeff, shouldn’t we put out an anchor?”  Lucky must have picked up on the tension because he starts freaking out.  Crying, and restless pacing, not wanting to come up in the cockpit where we are, but not wanting to be alone down below either.  I’m still at the wheel, so Jeff gives him a quarter tablet of a sedative we have left over from Abbie’s surgery.

With anchor set, and Vessel Assist in radio contact, we wait for a tow.  Jeff figures out the problem:  operator error.  When he checked the fuel tanks this morning, he switched the valve to feed from the saddle tank to the keel tank, to balance the weight – or so he thought; what he actually did was turn the valve completely off, so no fuel was getting to the engine.  Not awake yet???

While we wait for the tow boat, Jeff tries bleeding the injectors, but that doesn’t work.  Lucky finally settles down and sleeps.  We leave voice messages at the harbor office to make sure they don’t rent out our slip; although we’d notified her that we were leaving, technically, it was ours until 1100.  We are told there is a line of people at her door, waiting for the office to open to sign up for a slip.  We are discouraged, but feel it was just a minor problem that probably can be worked out once we get out of the channel and safely into a dock.

Meanwhile, a sheriff boat comes by, wanting to know what we’re doing there, but doesn’t offer assistance.  An aircraft carrier ghosts by; massive dark gray angles against the dove-gray sky; silent; how come something that big doesn’t make much of a wake?  And why can’t I hear the engines?

0735.  Vessel Assist boat arrives.  He side ties onto our port side, just like the tugs do with those huge tankers, and proceeds to take us to the police docks.  I ask how he’s going to get us into the slip.  “Piece of cake” is his response.  “I just guide you right in, you jump off and tie the lines.”

And it worked!  Just like that!  Piece of cake.  Of course, by this time, all the “neighborhood” was awake, and alerted to our return.  There were three guys standing at the dock waiting to help catch the lines.  We settled Musetta in her place, and Jeff started working on the engine.  I went up to the office to make sure we wouldn’t have to vacate the slip.  By now, there were eight people in line!  I explained our situation to everyone and apologized that there was going to be one less slip available, and asked if they would mind if I went to the head of the line.  Even after that, three guys wouldn’t let me go ahead of them!  Can you believe it!?!?!?!!  I was patiently waiting at the end of the line, and one woman muscled her way to the front, turned around and announced, “She should go first! She’s next!”, beckoning me to come up to the front.  What a gal!!!

By about 0915, Jeff had the engine running again.  Seems the fuel had emptied all the way out of the primary filter, and the level was actually below the filter. Once he poured fuel back into the filter, the engine started right up.  He let it run for about 30 minutes, just to make sure everything was ok.  When he walked up to the office to confirm our departure, he saw Bill & Liddy Schmidt on Wind Witch motor by on their way out.  (They had a couple friends join them, so they are making a bee-line for Cabo San Lucas instead of doing all the day hops like we plan.)

So, we take off again.  The kids look at us like we’ve gone nuts.  We know we’re getting a later departure than planned, but figure we can still squeak in before dark.

As we motored down the main channel, an air craft carrier was coming into the harbor with its escort, two extra-large tugs (not attached to the boat), two coast guard vessels, and at least four police vessels.  As we got closer, the channel got narrower – or so it seemed.  I could not believe the size of that thing!  We had to pass along side the carrier to get out, there was nowhere else we could go.  Port to port, with the two police vessels buzzing between us and this behemoth, the minutes seemed interminable.  I can’t even begin to guess at the length of that vessel.  For those of you who have toured the USS Hornet in Alameda, this thing must have been at least 10 times that size.  There were crew members lined up at the lifelines the length of the ship, on all different levels.  Were they just excited to be coming into port, or is that some traditional symbol of respect for the port?  I waved, but few waved back.  I heard a voice over a loud speaker commanding the guys on the port side to remove their hats.  What’s with that?  Maybe some of you ex-navy guys can fill me in on these rules and procedures. 

When we finally passed the stern, I looked at the name plate – the Ronald Reagan!  Go, Ronnie!

By the time we’d made it five or so miles outside the harbor, the skies were starting to clear and the sun was coming out.  Flat water, no wind, but hey, could be a whole lot worse.  Lucky’s snoozing down below; Abbie’s snoring away in the cockpit; the sun is out; we’re on our way to Mexico.

At least, we were.  Until Jeff had this sickening thought: he couldn’t remember where he put the folder of boat documents when he came back from the Mexican Fishing Licensing office.  Oh no!  We took turns tearing the boat apart, looking for the slim, brown, zippered folder.  Nowhere in sight.  He could remember putting it on a power station on the dock when he came down from the car; that’s the last he could visualize. 

So, we turned back.  Once again.  That’s when I really lost my cool.  I was so angry I could spit nails!!!!  How could he be so careless with the boat documents?!?!?  “Criminy, Jeff, where was your head?!?!?!”  Jeff felt like a worthless idiot anyway, and I just added fuel to the fire.  Poor guy.  It was a pretty quiet ride back.  Jeff called the harbor office, police office, pilot boat office; no one had turned the folder in. I went below to quickly grab my phone, and came back up to the cockpit for better reception to start making calls and try and secure a space for the night.  Of course, by the time we got back, our slip had already been rented out; the new tenant was coming in just as we were circling near the slip trying to spot the folder on the dock.  Even the Customs Dock was rafted up two deep.  So we waited in the channel a bit, and moved to the Customs Dock once there was space.  Jeff walked the docks, but didn’t find anything.

Meanwhile, back at the boat, I kept smelling this horrific scent – worse than dog farts.  Oh no, what can be worse than dog farts?  You dog owners know what - dog shit, that’s what.  And there it was – on my boots, on my pants where my boot had rubbed, on the cushions, on the companionway steps, on the rugs below, on the sole, on Abbie’s bed, on Lucky’s bed, on Lucky’s shoes.  He and I had tracked it everywhere.  I guess he was so “relaxed” from the medication, it just “happened.”  When I came down, he was just standing there, like he didn’t know how it happened or what to do.  Poor guy.  (I say that a lot, don’t I?)  Actually, it should be Poor Me; I had to clean up the mess!  It was AWFUL!!!!!  Last week, my friend Scott sent me a Calvin joke about a kid stepping in dog shit; the joke was cute; actually going through it is definitely not cute!

So, by now, you’re wondering “what else could happen,” right?  I was.  Turns out, I didn’t have to wonder long.  Again, our luck held – yes we are lucky, in spite of setbacks.  There was room at the LaPlaya anchorage.  That’s the nicest one in the area – in a quiet, residential area, little beach, well protected.  Permits are granted for 72 hours maximum, and you cannot move from anchorage to anchorage in back-to-back stints.  But, at least we have a peaceful place to set the hook.  So we motored there, as I got out the headsets; I didn’t want to be the anchorage entertainment, trying to decipher what the captain at the bow is trying to yell or signal at me.  All went smoothly.  We went below and started making arrangements to replicate all the lost documents.  My sister, Lisa, could send us some things; we could order others on-line, overnight everything to the near-by yacht club.  Problem was, the documents all come from government agencies, and they‘ve already started closing for the 3-day holiday (Veterans Day).  Realistically, we wouldn’t possibly have all this together until the middle of next week at the earliest.  We would have to miss Paco’s party.  Major bummer!!! 

Just as that realization came to us, I looked up through the portlight and saw Abbie’s little butt clenching up on deck.  “I think Abbie just went big potty.”  (Isn’t it sick how grownups talk like little kids even when little kids aren’t around? J ) Yup.  Sure enough.  She did it, alright.  All down the deck.  Walked through it, too!  All down the deck.  All down the deck!  I’M SICK OF DOG SHIT!!!!!!!

Okay, got that out of my system; mess cleaned up; Abbie’s feet washed.  Truthfully, I was pretty discouraged.  It’s the first time I began to wonder, “What the heck am I doing?”  Finally, as darkness descended, our stream of mishaps ended as well.  We got a call from the harbor office: since Friday was a holiday, we could stay another day.  Wonderful!  Then we got another call: someone had just turned in the binder!!!!!  Ahh!  The relief washed over us; unclenched my gut. We’re legal again.  And because we’d had such a “shitty day” the creator sent us something else to make us smile: we got a third call from our friend, Mike Johnston, who had crewed with us on the Baja-Haha in 2003.  He is coming to San Diego for the weekend, and was hoping we could get together.  Why not!  What the heck – we’ll drink some cervesas, throw out a few Gringo Spanish words and still have a good time.

Friday, November 10, 2005, San Diego

Today went quickly.  We slept in late and had a nice breakfast.  Then Jeff loaded the kids in the dinghy along with the sea bag (like those old Navy-issue styled bags) filled with dirty rugs, beds, pants, etc. from yesterday’s debacle.  He did laundry and some additional errands in the neighborhood.  I stayed on the boat and got caught up on the computer with the log, Quicken entries, downloaded/unread email, inventory – yes, I keep my stores in a simple database program.  I wouldn’t be able to find anything if I didn’t have my computer, or had to rely solely on my frail memory. L 

As it happened, in that batch of e-mail that I hadn’t read yet, was a message from my friend and former culinary instructor, John Britto.  As a twenty-year Navy veteran and lover of the travel-by-sea life himself, he had quite an inspirational message.  The timing was perfect - it was just the boost I needed right now.

As I read through some of the other e-mails, it occurred to me that some of you are under the impression we have a lot of time on our hands.  Humph. How is that?  Sure, we’re no longer working.  Therefore, we must have nothing to do. Is that how it goes? 

No, that’s NOT how it goes. I don’t know how I can possibly explain this to anyone who has never spent any length of time aboard a boat.  There’s a lot of maintenance to do, but more than that, it’s the fact that EVERYTHNG takes longer to do on a boat than it does on land.  For example, a meal that I can cook in my home kitchen in one hour will take close to two hours on the boat, simply because of the logistics of working in a tight galley with limited storage space, limited equipment, and limited counter space.  Sure, cleaning the cabin doesn’t take long; but to get the vacuum out, I have to move Lucky’s bed, move the sewing machine, open the lower cabinet, pull out a tool box, pull out the stock pot lid, pull out the bag of nozzles, pull out the wand pieces, then finally drag out the vacuum, which has been stuffed inside of the stock pot.  Then it all goes back in reverse order.  It’s not that we’ve stored it in an inconvenient place – that’s just the nature of storage space on a boat; in order to use one item, you’ve got to move six others to get to it because you have to store things in places where they will fit, not where they will make sense or be easy to reach. Mind you, I’m not complaining; not yet anyway.  I’m merely trying to paint the picture.  Better yet, come down and visit us for a few days; cook, clean, and fix things with us; you’ll get the picture real soon!

The time we do have free is when we’re underway.  We both prefer to stay in the cockpit, just to get the fresh air and watch the sea, as well as limiting possibility of sea-sickness down below.  During late morning and early afternoon hours are when we are more idle, though one of us – usually Jeff – is on watch.  I would like to use that time to work on the computer, but I don’t dare bring it into the cockpit. 

Tomorrow, more boat projects.  We’re still organizing and stowing, constantly refining where we put things…….

Sunday, December 11, 2005

Oh my goodness, SO much has happened since I last wrote.  Actually, I lost a lot of what I wrote since Nov 10, but, I get ahead of my self.

Today is December 11, 2005.  I’m sitting in the cockpit as I write, with my buddy, Abbie, at my side.  We are currently in Ensenada, in a slip at Baja Naval Marina.  On our last weekend in San Diego, we visited with our friend, Mike Johnston, and enjoyed the lovely sunshine.  We left that Monday, November 14, and had a quiet motor sail to Ensenada, where we arrived late afternoon.  It was a challenge getting into the slip.  First off, we couldn’t see it – the boat just to the outside was protruding out so far, we couldn’t even tell there was an empty space beyond it.  Then, the fairway leading into the slip was so narrow, it left little room for maneuvering.  To cap it off, the tide was coming in, the wind was up, and there was a TREMENDOUS serge.  Several dock workers rushed down to grab our lines as I threw them off the boat, and cleat us off right away so we wouldn’t be “surged” into the other boat in the slip.  My heart was pounding!!!

Even though we tied up securely, it was difficult to sleep that night because we weren’t used to the jerking motion of the boat.  We were in C-2, near the head of the docks; when the surge rolled in, it bounced off the breakwater then back again, so we got it coming and going in rapid succession.  It would eventually die down in the wee hours of the morning, but the lines required daily adjustments.

Tuesday we tidied up the boat until early afternoon, not realizing that the customs office closes early, so we missed doing our check-in that day.  Wednesday, Rogelio, the dock master, walked us and another couple down the street a few blocks to the port captains’ office so we could check into the country, and get duly stamped.  The once-dreaded check-in process couldn’t have been simpler, now that Mexico changed its check-in requirements. 

Walking back, we passed dozens of street cafes selling fish tacos, mariscos, and the likes, but weren’t quite in the mood to start sampling.  The weather was cool but sunny, similar to San Francisco weather, and it just didn’t seem right for that spicy Mexican food I remember from 2003. J  One thing that I had forgotten about Mexico is the traffic.  Coming from Alameda, where a driver can get ticketed for crossing into a lane when a pedestrian is as much as four lanes away, here the pedestrians have no right of way – or at least that’s what is seems.  If you’re at a signal light, you’re ok; but anything else – you’re target practice!  Even at stop signs, there’s no safety because they make these rolling stops that never quite slow enough for anyone to pass.  Occasionally there’s a polite driver who signals you across, but even that has its dangers.  One day I was crossing in front of a polite truck driver who waited and signaled for me; the driver coming up in the next lane, however, did not see me in front of the truck, and did not plan on stopping.  If I hadn’t have jumped back, I would have been road kill!  Night time crossings are even more treacherous.  We RUN.  I’m sure the locals think we’re fools, but I’m just too content with life to give it up this early in the game! I 

This yard is next to the area where the cruise ships dock, and the city is trying to really attract the tourists, so there is a nice, long quay along the waterfront, along with a grassed park, playground, go-cart area, outdoor performance area, and on the main street beyond – tons of shops filled to bursting with kitch.  In the center of the quay is a HUGE landmark Mexican flag, which you can see from well out to sea.  The flag is actually quite lovely; it unfurls in the slightest breeze, billowing in soundless ripples of red, white, and green, almost in slow motion.

The Race

Friday we set out on a walk/jog.  As we walked along the quay, the dust in the air got unpleasantly thick, and we could see helicopters rising up out of the dirt parking lot at the end of the quay.  In no time, we counted over a dozen choppers circling in the sky above us.  As we rounded the corner to the main street, we saw what it was all about – today was the start of the Score International Off-Road Racing Association’s annual Baja 1000.  I had no clue what this was all about, but the cars were a cross between race cars and dune buggies, loaded down with extra balloon tires.  There appeared to be two drivers per car, each suited up in colorful overalls and matching helmets. They were congregating in the streets leading off the main road, and people were lined up all along the street, as were vendors in booths selling race-memorabilia.  The cars would take off one at a time, in 30-second intervals, burning rubber at the start, then a block later careening around a corner to another main artery.  I couldn’t believe the people lining the street corner!  There were no barriers, no warning signs, nothing to prevent people from getting injured if one of those cars failed to brake soon enough or screeched out of control around the corner.  Unbelieveable!!! 

Continuing our walk, we passed the race again, this time as the cars sped down into one of the arroyos (dry creek beds) that cut through the town.  They bumped and jostled from the street down into the bottom, spraying red dirt and mud like a rooster tail.  People sat on the banks or even stood at the entrance to the arroyo, shooting video as the cars roared past. 

Later, I read in the BajaTimes, the local gringo newspaper, that there were over 350 entries from more than 30 US states and 10 countries.  Evidently this is the major desert race of the year, as it was televised on NBC, the Outdoor Life Network, and the Discovery HD network.  The course covers 709 miles of the rugged Baja peninsula, stretching across to the Sea of Cortez and back.  I don’t know how many hours it took the winners to cover the course, but the post-race festivities were scheduled for Sunday morning, so those drivers must have taken turns round the clock – though how the one “off watch” would get some rest, I can’t imagine!

The Nightmare

That afternoon I worked on my log and was starting to upload it using the marina’s wifi connection, when I started experiencing problems.  I carried my computer up to the office to get a better signal and tried again.  No luck.  When I called tech support for help, they said it was probably the wifi connection.  So I took my laptop to a local internet café and tried connecting there.  I could connect, but the computer wouldn’t recognize the connection.  The attendant tried adjusting some settings, and we tried using two different Ethernet cables; nothing worked.  I shut it down to reboot, and that’s when the nightmare began!  It wouldn’t reboot.  It gave only an ugly green, pulsing, one-line message in the center of an ominous black screen that said I had to install my original discs.  It had crashed!

Then my problems REALLY began.  I had the recovery discs with me, but of course, that meant I would completely wipe out everything on the disc and start fresh.  Fortunately, I had backed up to an external hard drive about a week before, so I didn’t lose a TON of data, but the tough part was re-loading the software.  That damned Microsoft!!!  None of my software keys worked.  I had the original discs and everything, and they still wouldn’t work!  I spent HOURS on the phone, racking up roaming charges, with Tech Support – some guy in India who kept having me try the same steps over and over.  I told him, “this isn’t working!” and he says, “but it should work; let’s just try it again.”  I was infuriated!!!  After several hours, my call was mercifully cut off, so I called Compaq Tech Support, who are in Canada, and spent another hour on the phone with them.  At least he understood the problem.  I ended up calling Microsoft back and had to get new keys, then asked for a refund on the charge for Tech Support since they didn’t solve the problem, though I would have liked to have been reimbursed for all the roaming charges as well!

Unfortunately, for some reason I hadn’t packed all the discs for my Microsoft Office software; I only had the Media disc, not the disc that has the Setup file.  So I was really in a bind.  As luck would have it, one of the other cruisers here in the marina was a former Microsoft employee.  He had pinched an in-house copy of Office XP before he left.  In-house means it’s not keyed.  He graciously offered to load it on my computer, and we at least got that portion up and running that evening.  The timing couldn’t have been better because he was leaving the next day.

That week I was chained to the computer, trying to get everything up and running again.  Being out of e-mail was driving me crazy, and there’s no way I could be without access to my bank for long.  I was stressed to the max, and NOT having any fun.  Jeff said I was so much more relaxed on our last cruise because I wasn’t so tied to the computer, but at that time, we were only going to be out three months, so I had pre-paid all our bills.  Going on an open-ended cruise like now, there’s no way I could pre-pay; I would have to take care of all financial arrangements on a monthly basis, like a ”normal” citizen, so it was crucial to have e-mail and internet access while at sea.

Adding to the mess, as I was trying to load software, the disc drive started making all kinds of ugly whirring/grinding noises, and was taking forever to read the discs.  Oh no, the drive was going too!

As part of this fiasco, I was unable to get my navigation software running properly, nor get the GPS to interface with the computer, nor get my Globalstar e-mail software to work.  Turns out, my e-mail software was out of date, and I had to download the updates from their website before I could proceed.  Ok, not bad, I was fortunate to have wifi at the marina office.  But the bad part was the navigation software – even though I only purchased it in April, it was already out of date and was no longer supported!!!  In other words, I would have to send in my dongle (isn’t that an atrocious word??) key and buy the upgrade!  GRRRRRRR! 

Guadalupe Valley

By Saturday my brain and nerves were fried!  Jeff rented a car for the weekend and we drove a half hour to the “wine country” in Guadalupe Valley.  As we rounded the hill and headed into the valley you could see acres of olive groves scattered along the rolling hills, some of them looking irreparably parched.  We had a map of the Ruta De Vino, on which a representative from the Ensenada Tourism Office who was at the April Sail Expo had marked all those that sell olive oil.  There was no way we would get to all of them, so I selected a few that sounded interesting to me. 

The first one I picked turned out to be on a dirt road, way in the heck back off the main highway, past a little village and barbed-wire fences.  We weren’t sure we were going the right way, until I spied a new compound and tidy, grass-covered yard in front of a lovely adobe building.  We parked, leashed the dogs, and strolled around the warehouse to the adobe.  There were workers outside tending the garden, but it turned out the winery didn’t open until 11:00.  We were an hour and a half early!  What kind of crazy gringo wants to drink wine at 9:30 in the morning?!?!?

So we switched to plan B: drive all the way to the end of the route – at least as far as we’d planned on going – then work our way back.  The last winery on my list was L.A.Cetto, so that’s where we headed.  As we neared the winery, past workers on the side of the road harvesting the olives.  They had the traditional buckets slung from their neck, and were using their bare hands to run their fingers through the branches like a comb.  I couldn’t imagine any olive oil produced from this time-consuming harvest method could be anything but fusty.  Old olive plantings lined the dirt road leading back to the winery, and they were literally caked with dust from the road.  How could they breathe?  Closer to the winery, the olives were planted hedge-row style – quite close together and cropped at the top, although to me they still seemed too tall to harvest without cumbersome ladders or high equipment.  

Turns out this winery is like the Mondavi Woodbridge of the Mexican wine world – high volume while trying to maintain a “boutique” feel, producing 12 million bottles a year, roughly 65% of the Mexican market.  When we got inside the tasting room, they wouldn’t let us taste until we’d gone on “the tour.”  I really didn’t want to do that – you’ve seen one winery, you’ve seen them all – but they weren’t giving us any options.  Unfortunately, as the same time we arrived, two busloads of folks from a cruise ship arrived also – people from Alameda and the Bay Area on a special “wine aficionado” cruise.  After the tour we had to practically claw our way to the bar to get a glass and taste anything.  The whites were no good, the petit syrah was a good value at $7, and they were sold out of the wine I really wanted to taste – the Nebbiolo.  All in all, we tasted about eight wines plus a tequila and a brandy, neither of which we cared for.  The wine maker, Camillo Magoni, (yes, Italian!) won the 2004 European International Wine Maker of the year award. 

He is also the olive oil maker, and of all the Mexican oils I tried, his was the best.  I expected nothing but fusty or rancid oils, so I was surprised that his was actually decent.  All of the Mexican oils were late harvest, and as such, his was still nicely balanced with a decent amount of fruit, a blend of Mission, Manzanillo, and Sevillano olives; at $6 dollars for a 25.4 oz bottle, it was a bargain.  Unfortunately, the tour guide didn’t know anything about the olive oil other than the varieties used, and it wasn’t produced on site.  I asked several people at the winery about the processing equipment, but no one had any answers.  Guess it’s not the chi-chi thing there yet. J 

Not far from L.A. Cetto was a sign for Doña Lupe’s organic products, so we drove there.  We sampled granola cookies, cheese, honey, and jellies.  We ended up buying one that was just grapes – no sugar; it was quite delicious.

One of our stops back down the Ruta De Vino was an ostrich farm, which was listed as having daily tours and ostrich products for sale.  This was another seemingly endless trek over bumpy dirt roads well into the heart of the valley.  We arrived covered in dust, parking in front of a ramshackle house amid huge boulders that had been painted like Easter eggs – pastels, stripes, vivid colors.  The blurb in the wine map was more hype than anything.  There was no “tour,” no products other than some ostrich meat, no shop, nothing.  We saw a pen with a bunch of ostrich running around – I guess the sight of visitors got them stirred up.  But the proprietor was quite nice – came out of his house to greet us when he saw our car, and explained in broken English that he really had nothing to offer us.  He also recommended a few wineries, most of which I’d already ear-marked to visit.  Some we found, after we took to time to drive there, were only open by appointment.  Bummer.

Our final stop was at the first winery of the morning, Vinisterra.  Our wait was well rewarded.  This time we left the kids in the car, and walked to the adobe, from which beautiful clear tones of classical music were drifting.  When we entered, I thought we’d made a mistake and walked into someone’s private home.  It was one big room, divided in the center with a huge fireplace.  The entry room was set up with casually elegant but traditional Mexican-looking furniture; the room on the opposite side filled with a huge wooden dining table and chairs, set with red placemats and sweeping curtains.  The u-shaped kitchen area occupied a corner of this room, with bar stools at the counter that was between the kitchen and the dining room.  A tall, slender, nice-looking man was sitting at the counter, enjoying a glass of wine. 

Turns out, this was Abelardo Rodriguez, proprietor, and grandson of a former Mexican President of the same name.  Well spoken, and clearly very intelligent, he explained that the home was his brother-in-law’s, who now lives in the city.  Abelardo, who is an engineer by trade and owns a brick-making company in Mexicali, and his wife, Paty, founded the winery a few years ago, and turned the home into the tasting room.  We liked all of his wines, and spent the rest of the afternoon, about three hours, visiting with Abelardo.  Paty showed up shortly before we left, so we had a chance to chat with her as well.  She is interested in making olive oil (the oil they sell is not made by them, but by a local producer, and I tried to gently tell them it would not win any awards) because she prefers the more green, early harvest styles.  I promised I would send her info on small quantity mills and olive oil production in general (which I did the following week).  We ended up buying three or four cases of wine because they were a good value – all under our new $10 per bottle budget.  Our stop there was, by far, one of the more memorable experiences of our trip!

Paco

Sunday we took the kids to the beach, drove around on errands trying to buy things we needed for the boat, and found a Laundromat to do our huge load.  The next two days I was chained to the computer, trying to get more of my systems up and running, as well as importing the items I’d backed up onto the external hard drive.  By this time I was down to the hard programs – the navigation software, GPS, Globalstar, and OCENS mail systems.  Getting them to interface was going to be the worst part.  We had an electrician do this before we left, and even he had to call for tech support.  I wasn’t too confident….

On Monday Jeff called our acquaintance, Paco Anda.  He came out to the boat on Tuesday after work to visit, and told us he would pick us up the next day to bring us to his house to see his wife, who is very pregnant and due Dec 10, and to loan us a car to drive while we’re in town. 

I decided I would make fugazza (Italian flat bread) the next morning to bring over, and that’s when Jeff got all serious and teary-eyed.  Oh NO!  What now?!?!?  I didn’t need more bad news!!  Well, it wasn’t bad news.  He had roped Paco into helping with a surprise for me the next day, that wouldn’t fit with me getting up the to make bread.  That Wednesday was November 23^rd, the 25^th anniversary of our wedding!!  Once again, I had completely and embarrassingly forgotten it!!!! 

But my sweet Jeffry never does!  Through Paco, he arranged for us to meet with a Catholic priest and re-new our wedding vows.  Funny, we weren’t “legal” to actually marry  in the Catholic church because Jeff had been previously married and that union hadn’t been officially “annulled” by the Catholic church; though it was a civil ceremony to begin with, this step was required before he could marry me.  So, we got married in an Episcopalian church instead!  Now, 25 years later, I guess the standards are more relaxed; I think Jeff wanted that as much for my mother as for any one. J  Any way, it was quite romantic, and we were both glistening with tears of love.  Afterwards, Paco drove us along with his wife (Gordita, the priest so boldy teased her!) to a really nice restaurant on the water, at a resort outside of town.  Unfortunately Angelica, Paco’s wife, speaks no
English, and my Spanish is pretty limited, so she really wasn’t in much on the conversation. 

Afterwards, Paco took us to his house and gave us a car to drive for the duration of our stay.  And what a car!!!  It’s a kit car replica of a 1936 Jaguar convertible coupe built with a Volkswagen engine.  No seat belts; no head rests; the turn signals are a toggle switch on the dash; the gear box is sloppy; but it’s a CRACK UP to drive!!!  Everyone we pass stares, points, waves, honks; we can’t go anywhere without calling attention to ourselves – especially when the dogs are with us!  There’s not much room in the back – only space for one dog – so Abbie sits in my lap.  With the two of us practically hanging out the low-slung door, I’m sure we’re a sight!  I wave to everyone as if I’m the queen of England, or the home-coming queen in a parade.  What a riot!!!  J

Giving Thanks

The following day was Thanksgiving.  In the November issue of Eating Well magazine there was a nice-looking recipe for stuffed turkey breast for two, so that’s what I cooked, along with mashed sweet potatoes and steamed green beans.  I had also brought some canned pumpkin and evaporated milk with me because I KNEW I wouldn’t be able to find pumpkin in Mexico, so we had a pumpkin pie for dessert.  I experimented with a whole wheat crust and it was delicious!  The one thing I forgot, though, was cranberry sauce, so I reconstituted the precious remaining dried cranberries I had on hand with port and a bit of orange zest, to rousing success.  All-in-all, I was thoroughly pleased with the meal, and was relieved not to have to prep for a week, and cook for and clean up after 25 people again. 

Afterwards we called my brother’s house, where most of the family was gathered, to wish them holiday greetings and send our love; we walked the kids in the park; then we played scrabble and a card game that someone had given us, called Phase 10.  Jeff creamed me in Scrabble, but I clobbered him in Phase 10.  We were listening to some great music on the Hear Radio XM station – alternative stuff (at least that’s one good thing about Starbucks!).  As a matter of fact, Jeff has found several more stations that we like: 40-something that plays all music from the 1940’s, and corresponding stations playing all 50’s music, 60’s, 70’s and so on. 

This was the first Thanksgiving in a long time that I’ve really enjoyed – relaxing and stress-free; one where I actually had time to reflect and give thanks for the many blessings I’ve received.

El Barco

Our boat haul-out appointment was on Tuesday, Nov 29, but that Friday we were told they’d like to get us in that day.  They’d had some “no-shows” so the yard was free. 

It’s hard to live in the boat when it’s on the hard because you have no running water, and no place to dispose of gray water.  We had planned on going to an immersion school to learn Spanish while the boat was hauled, and staying with a local family (that’s why it’s called “immersion.”)  So we contacted the school to see if A) Could we stay with a  family who would allow our dogs inside B) Could we go early.  The answer was “Yes” to both, so we scheduled the haul out for the next morning.

Saturday morning we were up early, packing and loading things to take with us.  I had enough time to make a fugazza to take to our hostess.  In typical mañana-land fashion, the actual haul-out was two hours late; by then the current was coming in, the surge was strong, and the wind had come up - once again, just when you don’t want it!  Between the yard workers, dock neighbors, and us, there were eight people handling lines and fending off to get us out of the slip and straightened in that tight fairway.  It was REALLY HAIRY!!!!  We motored around to the opposite side of the slips where the sling lowers down to slip under the boats.  It was quite impressive to see.  This HUGE crane drives over the water and lowers two massive slings, loops them under your boat to just the right position, then lifts.  The boat jerks eerily out of the water, 40,000 pounds suspended in air.  It was a weird feeling!  The dogs couldn’t figure out what the heck was going on!  At the yard there are massive doors that swing open and cut off the quay so no one can walk through that area while the crane is in operation.  This, of course, draws a crowd of spectators.  There was a cruise ship in that day, so the gawkers were especially plentiful; one guy was video taping the whole thing – so here I was, in the cockpit of this boat hanging in the air; what was I to do but wave like the home coming queen??? J

They stopped the crane mid-way to the top, so I could help the dogs climb off the back swim steps and onto the concrete quay.  The crowd watched every move we made.  The crane finished lifting the boat, it’s engine roared, and the giant inched its way into the yard.  The big doors closed after the crane, and the show was over.

La Escuela

Once inside the yard, they started the pressure wash of the bottom, so we didn’t see them put the boat on the jacks.  We took off for our appointment with the school director.

The Baja School of Language was about a mile to the West up the street from the yard, in a clean two-story pink stucco structure that once was a two-or three- apartment building.  Founded by a mid-western American, the school is efficiently run and quite clean.  All the instructors are native Mexicans.  Yolanda, the director,  spoke English well, and gave us the low-down on the school rules.  Paty, our non-English speaking hostess, joined us.  Everyone was thrilled with the dogs – so sweet, so well-behaved, so precious.  After the orientation,  everyone came down to the street to check out our car.  They couldn’t believe we were driving a car like that.

With our bags strapped onto the back luggage rack and the four of us piled in, we followed Paty to our new home-away-from-home.   Again, about a mile from the school but to the South, the home is a typical Ensenada middle-class home.  It’s on a shared courtyard surrounded by two other homes.  Four sisters live in the three homes, so they came and go between each others houses all day long – quite a convenient arrangement.  One or maybe both of the other homes also host students, and there were two at the neighboring home: Jay and Jane, a couple of retired high-school teachers from Idaho who had left their fifth wheel in Yuma and were staying there for three weeks.

In both homes I was in, the family gathers in the kitchen; the formal living rooms and dining rooms are simply for decoration – not for actually use it seems.  The kitchen’s where it all happens.  There are no “family” rooms with comfortable sofas and entertainment centers.

The family-stay plan includes three meals a day.  Breakfast is before school, of course.  The main meal is after school, usually 3:00 as school lets out at 2:30.  Then there is a light snack before bed, anywhere from 6:00 to 8:00, depending on our schedule.  The fee for a family-stay is $45 for a shared room (that’s for two people), and includes all meals; tips were optional, but were highly encouraged. 

This was quite an interesting experience for us.  We rarely saw their two teen-age children.  Victor, 16, hung out in his room most of the time, and Chela, their 14 year-old daughter, had given up her room for us.  She slept on a trundle bed in her parents’ room.  Both of them left for school before we got downstairs, they took their meals at different times than us, and in the evenings when we came back, they were already enclosed in their rooms. 

Though she is very hard-working and accommodating, Paty’s cooking was not of the famed sort of Hispanic cooks.  She has gastro-intestinal problems, so everything was bland – she uses no seasonings, and did not cook traditional Mexican dishes while we were there.  In addition, we’re so accustomed to eating lots of vegetables and little starch, it was a bit of a shock to our systems to switch to a high-starch, high fat (most everything cooked in margarine) low-priced foods diet.  Funny, I had decided that after Thanksgiving I was going to start cooking more regional-style meals instead of my usual Mediterranean things.  But after this week, we were both anxious to get back to my typical cooking, plus it hasn't really been warm enough to do the quick, fresh Mexican dishes; we crave our standard comfort foods in this cool weather. J

Alfonso, her husband, was a riot.  A fisherman by trade, he worked in Alaska several years, so spoke English pretty well, though the school rules specified no English in the home. He was currently out of work, but Paty works full-time at the Assessor’s office, with a two hour daily break at mid-day.

Every day after our main meal, we would go to the boat to check on the work progress, and also allow me a couple hours to continue loading my poor computer, check e-mail, etc.  We’d bring a bottle of wine back to the house, and open it with our late snack after we did our homework.  Alfonso always sat with us; try as we might, we’d start out with Spanish, but the lower the level in the bottle, the more English would come out.  Alfonso liked “bonding” with Jeff, and the two of them would often talk late into the night.  After cleaning up the dishes, Paty would join us as well.  The first night she didn’t want any wine; the second night it was half a glass; then she went to a full glass, and by Friday she was drinking several glasses along with us.  Alfonso confided to Jeff that he was going to miss us because since we’d been opening wine every night, Paty was sleeping better and didn’t have any stomach problems.  Relaxing with a glass of wine does that to you! J

Our days in school were fun.  This particular school does a lot of training for medical professionals and others in business, so they’re real sticklers for proper pronunciation and grammar, on which most of the time is spent.  The classes are no more than five students per instructor, but since it’s “off-season” and we were entry-level, Jeff and I made up a class of two.  It was like having a private class.  Our maestro, Dey, was a very intelligent, sensitive young man, who grew up in a poor village at the edge of the Mexico/Texas border.  He attended San Diego State, and probably speaks more proper English than do the majority of Americans.  We got into some interesting discussions about the Mexican culture and political positions, and I could tell he has great pride in his country but also worries about its future.

On our first day there, Dey insisted we move our car off the street, and into the carport area.  He was concerned about its safety.  All the teachers made a fuss over the dogs, especially Lupita, our afternoon maestra.  (Our grammatical instruction ended at 12:30 and the “activities director” took over for the next two hours.)  She just adored those dogs, carrying on in a squeaky falsetto, “oh precioso, precioso!” as she’s rubbing them.  They ate it up!  The lady who cleans the school has a son, about eight years old, who would come to the school after his own classes let out.  He rolled on the floor with the kids, and played with them all the afternoon long.  Even though he had a bad cough, he never seemed to tire of playing with them.

On our second day, driving home from school, the car conked out.  It seemed like it wasn’t getting enough fuel.  Fortunately, we had stopped at a gas station, so we didn’t have to push it far – just from the pump to a parking space. We walked the rest of the way home and called Paco.  He was out of town, so the only thing we could do was leave a message.  Later that evening, Alfonso and Jeff went back to the car and towed it to the home, where it sat the rest of the week.  We walked to and from school each day.  A little over a mile each way, poor old Lucky was pretty tired and sore.  He would limp on the way home, so we kept him on Ibuprofen.  We weren’t comfortable leaving him at the house all day, because he wasn’t comfortable there at all. 

Neither of the dogs liked it there.  Alfonso has a 5-year old un-neutered male dog, a Weimeriner mix, who stood six inches taller than Lucky and must have out-weighed him by 30 pounds.  The first day we arrived at the house, Chacho was all over our dogs, causing problems.  So he had to stay outside.  Then he started getting jealous because Abbie and Lucky could come in the house and he couldn’t, so he got even more aggressive.  When we’d let the kids out in the morning and evening to go potty, he would always try to pick a fight with Lucky, or try to hump Abbie.  On top of that, the house was very cold, especially on the tile floors.  Poor kids, they just weren’t happy there, and I can’t blame them.

I was cold much of the time as well, especially in the classroom.  There wasn’t air conditioning, but the buildings are made of stucco-covered concrete with tile floors; good for staying cool in warm weather, but when the temperature drops, they’re like a mausoleum.  Also, the water at the house never really got HOT when we took our shower, it was just tepid.  Add to that the fact that I didn’t have any close-toed walking shoes, only sandals, and my toes were like popsicles all week, although my body didn’t seem to feel that cold.

Paty REALLY LIKED  the Italian flat bread, and asked me to teach her how to make it.  So we decided that we’d do it on Friday, our last day.  She said she didn’t have to go back to work that afternoon, so it would work out perfect.  We skipped going to the boat that day, and had paid to stay at the house an extra day so we wouldn’t have to lug our bags back to the boat late at night.  This was also the final day for the other Jay and Jane, who’d planned on leaving early Saturday morning.  Like all Fridays, the end of the week brings on a party atmosphere.  Unfortunately, Paty ended up having to go back to work that afternoon, so she asked me to show Alfonso how to make the bread, and he would, in turn, show her.  Fat chance!  I showed him, but I think he had more interest in “visiting” than in making bread.  After our main meal, Paty had gone back to work, Jeff had gone to pick up a rental car, and I showed Alfonso the first steps, then he went next door.  I washed the lunch dishes, and rested for a bit as by this time I had come down with a full-blown cold – or flue – or some doggoned crud!  I’d gotten a flue shot in San Diego – maybe that was the problem; if I hadn’t gotten the shot, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten sick. J Or maybe it was from the chilly classroom and the kid coughing on me all the time.  Anyway, when it was time to move the bread from the bowl to the pan for the second rise, I had to rouse myself from groggy sleep, and Alfonso from a lively conversation at the kitchen table next door.  After we did the bread, I joined the group at the table, where by now Jeff had also settled, along with Sandra, Paty’s sister and host at that house.  The evening progressed, and our instructor, Dey, was expected to show up soon to exchange music with this other Jay and Jane. 

Well, one bottle of wine wasn’t going to be enough for that many people.  So I sent Jeff and Alfonso off to the grocery store a couple blocks away to pick up some cheese and wine to accompany the fresh bread.  Unfortunately, by the time they got back, the “J’s” had left with Dey to do the music thing.  Paty had come home, so I showed her the stage where you poke holes in the bread and douse it with olive oil, then pop it in the hot oven.  It cooked quickly, and came out BEAUTIFULLY!!!!  Everyone loved it!  Sandra came over, and the five of us had a fun evening trying the different cheeses and wines that the two men had selected.  When the “J’s” got back, they joined us and finished off the final few pieces of bread a little before I finally headed off to bed.  Jeff and Alfonso stayed up and talked into the wee hours of the morning.  It’s a guy thing.

San Diego  

We were concerned about the wait time at the Mexican border, so we got up early and left the house about 5:30.  We went to the boat first, where the dogs had to wait in the yard (no way to get them up the steep ladder to the boat that was still on jacks); we showered in the marina facilities, unpacked/repacked for the weekend, loaded the car with our bags and laundry (it’s cheaper to do it in the states than in Mexico), and got on the road by about 8:00.  We hit the traffic backup at just about 9:30, and it took us 70 minutes to cross the border. 

We drove straight to Downwind Marine, a chandlery that caters to cruisers.  They have a great service that’s free of charge: cruisers can use their mailing address for packages, then they will distribute the packages to other cruisers who are coming or going to/from the same destination as you; or they hold it for pick-up; or they ship it per your instructions.  It’s really great!  All they ask is that if you need to buy replacement parts, you buy from them.  Fair enough deal.  Tiffany Marine – OOPS, I mean West Marine – is getting out of hand anyway.  Their San Diego store is like a Home Depot, with huge product displays and aisle after aisle of “stuff;” the difference is, their prices are not discount any more – they’re really high.

Anyway, Lisa had sent a care package loaded with goodies from her and my mom to Downwind Marine for us, so we picked it up.  I also picked up a package of Best Buy gift cards.  After the weeks of frustration with my old computer, we’d decided we needed to have a newer one, and keep the old one as “back-up.” So I had cashed in some airline miles for the gift cards and had them also sent to Downwind Marine.  After a stop at the post office, grocery store for some hard-to-find in Mexico non-perishables, drug store for some Nyquil and day-time cold medicine for me (what a trip trying to decipher the products on the shelves at the farmacia section of the Mexican grocery stores!), and lunch at a Greek place, we took off for Best Buy. 

The store was mobbed!  The store was noisy!!  The store gave me an instant headache!!!  I was feeling extremely miserable with the cold or flue or whatever it was I had, and that store was NOT fun.  After checking out the products, and what seemed like hours of comparing and listening to sales spiels, we settled on a Sony Vaio. I also purchased the Student/Teachers edition of Office 2003.  They don’t advertise that on their website; it’s only $150 versus the standard $400, and you get all the same features, with the exception of Access, in addition to the license to load it on THREE computers!!!  What a deal!  I felt I’d finally gotten a break in this computer crap!  So, we left the computer there for the Geek Squad (Geek Squad – don’t you love it?!?!?) to load the software, create a Rescue Disc (laptops don’t come with them anymore – go figure!), and adjust the settings to remove all the advertisements for AOL, etc. that slow the operation down.  We had a couple hours to kill.

So we headed to Petco to pick up more dog food – again, good quality dog food is hard to find in Mexico, but there’s a limit to how much we can store on the boat.  Then we drove to the near-by mall to find something for dinner.  What a mess!  The streets were backed up for miles; the parking lots were full to bursting, with flashlight-waving traffic directors at each intersection; the restaurants had people lined up outside and around the corners, waiting to get in.  We’d forgotten all about the Christmas rush!  It was pure MADNESS!!!! 

After cruising around awhile, we finally found a parking space, left the kids in the car, and walked the half-mile to the opposite end of the mall to get to Nordstroms.  We know they usually have a café, and figured it wouldn’t be as busy.  Besides, I was in desperate need of some warmer walking shoes – my Teva sandals just weren’t cutting it in the cooler weather. 

Our hunch played out; there were few people in the cafeteria, and we had a tasty roast chicken and vegetable dinner.  Of course, by this time, all I wanted was to crawl into a warm bed.  Mike Johnston had offered his boat to us, said we could stay there anytime we were in town, so we’d planned on going there.  I had packed our fleece sleeping bag liners and extra blankets, and curling up in them was all I could think about.  My head was pounding, my nose was completely stuffed, I was wracked with deep, rasping coughs, my throat was on fire. 

While I was buying some shoes, Jeffry, my sweetie, surprised me yet again.  He had gone off and called a hotel to book a room.  He was concerned about me sleeping on a cold boat, and wanted me to have a hot bath and warm, comfortable bed.  What a guy!!!  How can I not love this guy????

One more stop at the Robinson’s May store – they happened to have a sale on Levi’s. Jeffry had accidently burned his last pair on the diesel heater, plus he’s lost so much weight they wouldn’t stay up any more. So we stopped there and he had to try quite a few on before he found one that would work; it seems men’s sizes and cuts are getting as varied as women’s clothes now!

Back to Best Buy to pick up our new Geeked-out computer, what seemed like an interminable drive to the hotel right next to the Police docks where we’d stayed last month, and finally I was settled into bed.  Where I stayed for the next day and a half.  I was so sick, when I would try to get a deep breath, I could feel the fluid in my lungs.  It was pretty bad.  Jeff did the laundry on Sunday, and took the kids for a long walk in the park there.  He said they both walked with such jaunty steps, and didn’t want to go back to the room, he could tell they really liked being there.

New Everything

Monday I slept in a bit, we had a late breakfast at the hotel café, and we drove back to Ensenada, sailing across the border with barely a stop.  Green light.  (To cross into Mexico, it’s just like at the airports: you press a signal light; if you get the green light, you go through; if you get red, you have to stop for inspection.)

Our boat was supposed to go back in the water that day.  We got to the yard a little before 2:00, and told them we were ready; they kept saying “in a minute,” which of course, turned out to be close to two and a half hours.  Four fifteen, after most of the workers had gone home, was when the crane came to pull us off the jack stands. 

This time, there wasn’t much of a crowd because it was late in the day, and there was no cruise ship in port.  Unfortunately, the tide was extremely low, so the crane operator had an especially difficult time getting the slings out from under the boat.  Actually, from his position on the crane, he can’t really see the position of the slings in relation to the boat that well; the yard supervisor stands on the quay or dock, directing the crane operator with hand signals.  They are both quite skilled at this maneuver.  The problem was, every time they would lower the slings as far as they could, then move them aft, the rear sling would clear the skeg-hung rudder, but the forward sling would catch it.  If the boat were floating in higher water, they could move the slings as low as needed to get them out from under the boat.  They ended up having to do it in stages – the aft sling first, then move the boat to deeper water, with the crane covering the same distance on the dock, of course, then lower the forward sling.  

By about 6:30 we were finally settled in our new slip, D-9.  This one is much nicer because it is on the outside of the marina, so we have an open view from the cockpit, and being further from the quay, it’s a little quieter.  Also, there’s no narrow fairway to contend with, so it’s much easier to get into.  The best part, though, is that it’s further from the head of the dock, so we’re not feeling the surge as dramatically.  The only down side is, from here I can’t get a strong enough wifi signal, so I have to take the computer up into the office and use the unsecured network.     

That’s the NEW computer!  I’m now back to loading software, saved documents, and still trying to set up my navigation/satellite phone/gps connections.  That part is not going too well. 

On Tuesday I spent the day putting things away and resting.  The interior of the boat had been torn up because Jeff had epoxied two of the water tanks, one under the dinette, the other under the master bunk.  Our mattress and bedding was strapped to the settee, the dinette cushions were strewn about the cabin, and all my unfinished “projects” that were piled in the aft stateroom had to be piled in various places through out the boat so we could sleep there.  So, once again, there was a lot of stowing going on!

Wednesday I sewed: Christmas bandanas for the kids -how could I have neglected to pack their bandanas?!?!?; a baby bonnet for Paco’s expected one, who was due Dec 10; a patch in Jeff’s shirt; another in his slacks.  I also ironed the one outfit I have on board that requires ironing – the dress I wore for our “wedding.”

So, Thursday and Friday I spent being thoroughly frustrated with the computer.  I have both to the stage where I can’t go any further without tech support.  We received our Verizon bill – $649 in roaming charges – OUCH!!!!  So I was trying to do as much as I possibly could before calling.  In the meantime, Jeff called Verizon to negotiate; they ended up reversing the roaming charges because he was going to drop the service, and because we hadn’t been told of the roaming charges when we purchased the plan, even through the sales person KNEW we were going to Mexico.  So, now we have a new plan with fewer minutes, but no roaming anywhere in north America, though I’m not sure if we’ll be able to get service much further south.  

On Friday Jeff worked on putting up Christmas lights on the exterior of the boat.  I’m SO THRILLED!!!!  Every year I’ve wanted to have lights on the boat, but we were always too busy, and never really spent much time on the boat around the holidays, so we never got around to decorating it.  But this year – no excuse!!  We’d picked up some of those rope lights while we were in San Diego, enough to completely line the lifelines and dodger.  It’s SO festive looking – I love it!!!!  We’re the only ones on the docks decked out for Christmas, but it really put me in the spirit, along with the XM radio station that Jeff found that plays only Christmas music round the clock.  The day after Thanksgiving, a large power boat, all lit up with lights and Christmas scenes, pulled up to the quay with Santa Claus aboard.  The kids on the quay went NUTS!!!!  It was fun to watch.

Saturday night we strolled to a nice restaurant a couple blocks up the street.  It had been written up in Saveur Magazine, and was recommended by Abelardo, the friendly winemaker at Vinisterra.  The restaurant owner/chef specializes in locally produced foods prepared in an updated version of regional cuisine.  The menu was limited, but our meal was delicious, and, for the quality, we thought quite reasonable.  Of course, we had a bottle of Abelardo’s wine to go with our meal. J  The owner also told us where we can buy the baby vegetables he serves, so I’m looking forward to another excursion later this week, because the produce in the regular grocery stores is pretty dismal.

After dinner we were like a young married couple free from the kids for a night. J  We strolled along the main tourist street where all the shops and discos are located.  We watched the kids in cars “cruising” the mile (remember those days???); window shopped; checked out all the bikes parked on the sidewalk in front of one of the bars, the Diablo Devils motorcycle club – bikes with chain-driven gears and big balloon tires; sprayed ourselves with every kind of perfume in one of those duty-free shops; just had a lovely evening together.  When we returned to the boat, the kids had behaved themselves – or rather Abbie behaved – so we didn’t have any mess to clean up.  We used to give them a treat before we left.  Now I switched to giving them a treat when we return, but only if they’re good.  It’s amazing how quickly Abbie catches on!!!

So, here I am on Sunday, sitting in the cockpit, enjoying the sun, and taking sort of a break from the drudgery of computers by writing.  There is a plane circling overhead that is announcing some event from a loudspeaker; usually we hear cars going down the street with loudspeakers; this is the first time I’ve heard the ads from a plane.

Carlos, the yard worker who patrols the docks on weekends, was just here checking the dock finger next to us.  The boat on the other side, named Swagman, is about 50 feet, but it’s made of ferrocement; the hulls are probably 4 inches thick and filled with rebar.  So it’s substantially heavier than our boat.  Lately we’ve been hearing a lot more noise from the dock at night with the surge, and it turns out the boat is so heavy, it’s pulling the dock apart.  So they’re going to have to move the boat to a mooring ball and repair the dock finger.  Carlos asked us to move two spaces, to D-7.  It’s actually nicer because we don’t have the noise of the dock breaking up, and without that heavy boat jerking the finger, we feel even less surge.  Life is good….

The Last Week

This morning, Monday, discordant trumpet notes floated across the water, signaling there were “big doings” in the plaza, so I grabbed the camera and went up to take a look.  I thought it might be something to commemorate the Virgin of Guadalupe, as this is “her” day.  In 2003, when we were driving up from Puerto Vallarta, this feast was celebrated for a week or more; every little village we came to had shrines, fireworks, festivities.  Here in Ensenada, we saw a poster for some events, but it doesn’t seem to be the big deal that it was in the smaller villages.

From what I could understand, the ceremony was to honor delegates from Ensenada’s Sister City of Almaria, Spain.  There was a local high school marching band and color guard; two couple dressed in traditional costume – presumably dancers; plenty of dignitaries; and 30 or 40 army soldiers.  There were there to take down the big landmark flag, and once it had the men holding it, you could really get a feel for how huge the thing is.  After a brief wait for all VIPs to arrive, the flag was raised again; the national anthem played; pledge of allegiance recited (interesting to see the salute that we always associate with NAZI Germany).  Over half the “audience” was introduced by the emcee; then the speeches started, and dragged on, and on, and on, and on, and on, ad naseum.  I tried to wait it out, because I really wanted to see the dancers, but my stomach got the better of me.  We hadn’t had breakfast yet, so we walked to the end of the quay in the opposite direction to a taco truck that hangs out there; got some great empanadas (80¢ each) and fresh chicken burritos ($1 each).  I guess I’m like Abbie – food comes first!! J

Today was a bit of a personal celebration for me.  Hallelujiah and pass the bread - I finally got the GPS to interface with the computer!!! What a relief!!!  Now, both my computers are fully functional, with the exception of the navigation software, which I can’t work on until my new, updated dongle comes in.  It was sent to the chandlery in San Diego, and a fellow cruiser is picking it up later this week.  I’m hoping I’ll have the program fully operational by Friday.

If that’s the case, we’ll leave on Saturday.  Though I would like to stay and take more Spanish classes – five days just wasn’t enough - it’s just getting too darned cold here!  Besides that, I’m getting that wanderlust again; I don’t like staying too long in one place.

Where will we go? you ask.  South.  That’s the best I can answer.  It will take us AT LEAST ten days to get to Cabo San Lucas, then we’ll probably go up to LaPaz.  Alfonso and Paty are coming to the boat for dinner on Wednesday; hopefully we’ll get to see Paco’s new baby when we return the car (at this point we’re still waiting to hear if Angelica delivered); and we’re looking forward to meeting new friends in our travels.

Ensenada to LaPaz

Sunday, December 18, 2005 – Ensenada to Santo Tomas

Well, we set out on Sunday.  Our last week in Ensenada was quite busy with preparations to be away from “civilization” for an extended period.

Alfonso and Paty came on Wednesday for dinner.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of my better dinners, although they ate everything.  They had arrived an hour and a half late, and my timing was all off.  Nevertheless, we had a good time visiting; in fact, if Paty hadn’t noticed it was already 2300 they would have stayed longer, but she had to work in the morning.  Given a little encouragement, I’m sure Alfonso would have stayed longer.  He’s such a fun-loving guy!  He calls me “Contessa” and told Jeff he was really going to miss him – no doubt because Jeff always serves him good wine. J 

We spent Thursday and Friday provisioning.  At the restaurant that I liked so much – Manzanilla – I had asked the owner where he got the wonderful vegetables he served.  It was a local grower, who has a shop with limited hours, just a couple blocks up from the marina.  So naturally, I headed over there Friday morning.  They had lots of tiny vegetables that were packed in boxes ready for shipment to California – zucchini, yellow summer squash, yellow pear tomatoes, peeled carrots, red and chiogga beets – all beautiful baby size, trimmed and ready to eat.  Plus, they had lovely lettuce mix, awesome arugula, beautiful basil, and incredible haricots verts (French green beans).  And get this – I bought 3 LARGE bags of beautiful, fresh baby produce for roughly $12.50!!!!!!  I couldn’t believe it!  That would have cost at least six times as much in the states.

We also made a final run to Costco for pork tenderloin, produce, wine, and a few other things.  Wouldn’t you know it, NOW they had dried cranberries!  I looked for them last month everywhere in that town, and couldn’t find any – now they get them.  So, just to have them on hand, I bought two big bags. 

Grocery shopping in Mexico is a trip.  It requires patience, curiosity, and ability to adapt.  The things I really would like and haven’t been able to find are so commonplace in the U. S., it’s hard to believe they’re not available here.  Things like canned chicken broth, egg substitute, low fat dairy products and cheeses, fresh herbs, variety produce, plain yogurt without sugar.  In fact, if I were diabetic, I would have a tough time here because EVERYTHING has sugar in it!  Evidently they don’t believe in low-fat or low-sugar products.  I was surprised to find the South Beach Diet book translated into Spanish in the grocery store.  It’s based so heavily on egg substitute and low-or no-fat dairy products, anyone trying to stick to the diet would find little to eat!  Another problem is that everything has a short expiration date, and in the case of some products, they don’t even last to the expiration date.  I’ve had both milk and turkey turn bad within just a couple days of getting them to the boat, even though I packed them into ice-cooled chest at the grocery store.  It must be because of improper handling before the products are put in the case.  I’ve also noticed that the cheeses which are cut from a large block start to mold within a week or less, again probably because the people who were cutting and wrapping didn’t have clean hands or gloves.

One final load of laundry, then Jeff returned the car to Paco.  I didn’t go because I’m still fighting the flue/cold/crud, and didn’t want to infect the baby or Angelica, though I’m disappointed I didn’t get to see the little guy.

My last shower at the marina looked like it was going to be a chiller, but thankfully, it wasn’t.  The bathrooms are quite nice – all marble floors and walls, beautifully streaked with brown, coral, and turquoise colors, but in the winter they can be a little cold.  When you enter, the light and fans go on automatically, and they are cleaned daily with strong-smelling cleaner.  In our month here, I’ve learned about their idiosyncrasies:  it takes at least 5 minutes for the water to heat up in the showers, especially if you’re the first one of the day; and if you’re in the shower when a toilet flushes, jump out of the way because the cold water goes to the toilet and you’ll be scalded.  One day I stood there, shivering in the shower stall, waiting for the water to heat up – and waiting – and waiting – and waiting.  Finally I realized it was getting colder, and jumped in and out quickly.  Turns out they had run out of gas the day before, so couldn’t heat the water.  Didn’t bother to put up a notice or anything – just let us find out for ourselves!  Sunday morning I waited over 15 minutes, and the water still never got warm.  When I heard Jeff going into the men’s, I quickly dressed and went across the way to yell to him.  “Have you got hot water?”  “Yeah, no problem!”  Humph!  So I went back and tried it again, in a different stall this time, and it only took a few minutes to heat up – go figure.  Ah, standing under a hot shower, letting the water run sinfully wasteful is one of life’s little appreciated pleasures.

Our dock neighbors helped with lines and saw us off, many planning to see us in LaPaz next month.  We motor-sailed in no-wind but sunny conditions, to our first stop, Santo Tomas, in the next bay south from Ensenada.  This is the site of the original vineyards of the Santo Tomas Winery, Mexico’s oldest continuously running winery, established in the late 1800s.  We had visited their facility in Ensenada, and tasted about 2 dozen of their wines, buying a couple cases.  The winery itself is no longer located here, but the vineyards are still under cultivation.  There is a tiny village at the edge of the cliffs, obviously without electricity or indoor plumbing.  The homes are no more than shacks or travel trailer, each with its corresponding outhouse.  Once the sun goes down, there are no lights in the village.  Fishing seems to be the primary reason for the village even being there, as there were dozens of pangas moored in the bay – most of them painted green; why, I don’t know.

There wasn’t any wind all day, until we got ready to anchor – then it whipped up to 20 knots.  The anchorage was a little rolly, but not bad compared to what we’ve experienced in the past, and our anchor held fine.  There was no moon, so the night sky was incredibly dark; now I understand where the saying “dark as night” comes from!  The stars were brilliant, and looked as if I could almost reach out and touch them.

Monday, December 19, 2005- Santo Tomas to Bahia Colnett

More of the same passage-making conditions as we made our next stop, Bahia Colnett, the second bay down from Ensenada.  It wasn’t as rolly at night, except when the tide changed, and the holding was excellent; in fact, most of the night it was lovely.  Both nights, there's been no moon, so it's unbelievably dark; it takes quite awhile for
your eyes to adjust to see the silhouette of the land, and of course, the stars are ever a source of fascination!

Tuesday, December 20, 2005 – Bahia Colnett to Isla San Martín

Our little bay was sunny when we woke, but you could see fog right outside the mouth of the bay.  It stayed with us all day, and in fact got even heavier as the day progressed.

The sea was flat with long rolling swells, but we motored in less than 100 feet visibility all day. We wanted to explore the lava tubes at Isla San Martin, which was only a 6-hour motor.  It was creepy heading into the island and not being able to see it until we were practically on top of it!  We had it on radar, we were on the right course for the GPS
co-ordinates, but we just couldn't SEE the darned thing!!!  Jeff was below, watching the radar.  My eyes were locked between the depth meter and the fog.  When you stare into it so long, your eyes start to play tricks on you, and you start seeing things.  So many times I thought I saw land, but when I broke to view the depth meter, the dark shapes were gone.  The depth kept getting more and more shallow.  Finally at about 45 foot depth, “Jeff!  I see breaking waves!  They’re CLOSE!!!!”  The breakers came out of the fog so suddenly, it felt like we were practically on the shore!  We slowed the engine and creeped along, to the GPS coordinates, toward what was supposed to be the center of Hassler’s Cove.  We could make out the outline of a panga ahead.  And, unbelievably, as we got to the 20-foot depth, there was a little pocket of sunshine in the cove!!!!!  Right where we wanted to anchor, it was sunny and clear!!!  As if god was saving that special little spot just for us!

Once safely anchored, we had lunch and rowed the dinghy ashore to let the crew
stretch their legs- 2 legged AND 4-legged.  This is basically an uninhabited island, completely covered with hearty vegetation - unlike most of Baja. There are a few fishermen's shacks on the edge and a few pangas on mooring balls, but that's about it.  No other cruisers.

There was a nice, long sandy beach area for the kids to run, but Abbie and I hiked to the other side of the peninsula to the lagoon.  It’s home to a large sea lion colony, and the whole island is a bird sanctuary.  Coming up to the lagoon, I expected to smell bird guano and other bad odors, but instead it had a fresh seawater scent.  The sunlight coming through the light fog painted the landscape a soft golden color, as if I was looking through silk gauze, or a photographer’s filtered lens.  As we walked closer to the lagoon, the sea lions spotted us, and immediately started waddling into the lagoon, barking loudly in alarm, or perhaps it was indignation.  Abbie and I stood still and watched as their ungainly blubber rolled into the water, and transformed into sleek, graceful mounds gliding across the surface.  They slid just under the surface, and the water streamed over their body shape, making the surface look as if a snake had swallowed an egg whole.  In five minutes they were gone.  Silence.  Stillness.  The moment was so hypnotic, it was a few minutes before I could move; even Abbie stood silently at attention, as if she was as rapt as I.

Abbie stuck within a few feet of me throughout our hike.  If there were lava “tubes” we didn’t find them, but we did see lots of lava streams leading to the lagoon.  Black and craggy, they reminded me of the wet clay in the orchards around the San Joaquin Valley.  Abbie sniffed all around them and especially the area where the sea lions had been just been lounging, which actually smelled quite strongly of urine.  Of course, she had to go around and mark that area.  Wonder what they thought when they returned?

With the afternoon growing short, we headed back, this time taking a route through the center of the peninsula rather than the rocky edge, which I thought was tough on her feet. About half way back, I realized Abbie wasn’t right near me.  When I turned to look back for her, I was HORRIFIED at the sight!  Her feet, her legs, her ears, her nose, even her mouth, were covered in cacti!  They were these one-half to two-inch balls, encased in sinister, barbed spikes!  Poor thing!!!!   Fortunately, I had gloves and boots on, and was able to get them off of her.  Evidently she had tried to bite them off, which was how she ended up with them in her mouth.  There was no blood, but she was quivering none-the-less; I know they hurt, because some went through my gloves and I could feel their sting.  But that little trooper, as soon as I got her cleaned up, she trotted off again, fearless as always.  I thought perhaps I should try to carry her out, but she seemed content to trot ahead.  We had to make a couple more stops to clean her up before we got to the beach, but she never for an instant tried to stop going with me.  Man, I LOVE that dog!  What spirit!

Lucky, on the other hand, is a major wimp – a sweet boy, but a wimp.  When I asked Jeff why they didn’t go to the lagoon, it was because Lucky had gotten one of those cacti on his leg also, but he refused to go any further; he went back to the beach, so Jeff stayed with him.  Good thing, too, because Lucky found a rotting seal carcass – one of those horribly smelly things – that he was about to ROLL IN when Jeff caught him just in time!

By the time we were all ready to go back, the tide had gone out, and launching the dinghy was a bit more challenging than it was getting in.  The beach drop-off was steeper so we both ended up getting water in our boots.  Guess we need hip waders.

The night was calm and peaceful.  What a beautiful little spot!

Wednesday, December 21, 2005 – Isla San Martín to San Quintín

With our next stop just a few hours away, we took our time this morning, enjoying a nice breakfast before departing this lovely cove.  There was no wind, and the seas were flat, with little crinkles all across the surface, like an old woman’s skin.  Our little rest in Hassler’s Cove lifted all the crew’s spirits.  As we left the cove, the fog hung across the horizon like the Mists of Avalon; the mountains of the mainland rose above the mists, reminding me of the Hawaiian Islands.  This was the first day we saw some sea life: a few dolphin at our bow, an enormous sunfish, a lone seal sunning himself – he lolled on his back, his flippers gently waving in the air,  his nose and little buddah belly barely touching the surface. 

We reached the mouth of the bay around 1300.  Supposedly there is an anchorage here, in the lee of the point, but we couldn’t find any area that was free of breakers.  We’d planned on going further east into the bay anyway, about 3 more miles, possibly doing some shore excursions.  There is an old grist mill here and a few other points of interest, along with a couple hotels, but the village is further inland.  The further in we went, the larger the swells grew.  At one point, Jeff was standing on the cockpit benches, looking back at the oncoming swell, and he couldn’t even see over the top of the wave.  That means the swell had to have been at least 8 – 10 feet.  Fortunately they were spaced far apart, so the boat motion wasn’t too uncomfortable.  We’d be lifted by a swell and “surf” down its face. 

The bay was only about 37 feet deep throughout – very shallow, but we only went as far as 25 feet and stopped.  We never made it to the anchorage.  The waves were breaking so violently, we didn’t see how we could possibly anchor.  In fact, in one area, there were people surfing – that’s DEFINITELY not a place to anchor!  We discussed our options: a) try to find a safe passage through the breakers to the supposed anchorage at the mouth of the bay; b) continue down to our next stop, about 8 more hours; c) go back to Isla San Martín. 

By the time we’d motored back out of the bay, it was already 1400.   Continuing to our next stop would have put us in after dark.  Neither of us was keen on entering an unfamiliar, unmarked anchorage at night, especially since there hadn’t even been any moon light the last few nights.  It's just too dangerous; there can be fish pens, traps,
kelp, pangas, mooring balls, rocks, all kinds of things that can be a problem if we couldn't see them.  So we played it safe; we headed back to the island.  All of us liked it there, the holding was good, we’re on no time frame, so, why not???

We anchored in roughly the same spot we were before, but now the winds kicked up.  By the time we sat down for dinner, it was blowing 20 knots, and even the fishermen didn't go out, so you KNOW it was pretty rough outside the cove!  (Often they fish at night.) 

It continued up to 25 knots throughout the night.  Both of us got up a few times during the night to check on our holding.  At one point, the fog was so thick, I couldn’t even see the bow of the boat! I was grateful we had so many throw pillows onboard (my unfinished sewing projects) because we stuffed them into the cabinets to keep things from banging around at night.  Of course, there was nothing we could do to dampen the sound of the liquids sloshing in the water and fuel tanks, or the anchor rode scraping over the bow roller, nor the wind howling through the spreaders, sheets and halyards.

Thursday, December 22, 2005, Isla San Martín
There are no fishermen around today - I don't know if they got an early start on fishing, or they've gone home to get out of this storm; guess I'll know the answer tonight whether anyone returns.  Jeff said he saw a couple last night, heading in from outside the cove; they put a tarp over the superstructure and had a lantern, and that’s where they bedded down for the night.  Those are definitely hardy people!

We plan on staying here through Christmas, then will have a LONG day of sailing on
the 26th, because the next anchorage will take at least 10 hours to make, and we want to get there before dark. 

I had a minor triumph with the computer today.  Pretty soon I’ll be half Geek! J After working half the day on it, I figured out how to get the navigation software weather system to work properly with the e-mail gateway.  I’ve been waiting for some answers from tech support on that and another issue, and found out even they can’t get the darned thing to work!  Turns out, there were some “issues” with the software version I have, which were corrected in the upgrade.  The upgrade came out right after I bought mine, and my version is no longer supported!   I get so dang FRUSTRATED with these software makers!!!  I bought the software May 5, 2005, and as of yet, because of various problems, have not been able to fully use it! It looks like I still won’t until I get the software upgrade CD, which will be late January if I’m lucky.

We are socked in fog again today – so thick it’s actually drizzling.  The boat is rocking quite a bit, and it’s cold, but our anchor is secure, and Jeff has the diesel heater going, so we’re quite cozy.  It appears the fishermen have all gone home, as we didn’t see anyone return this evening, and there are very few pangas left on mooring balls.  It’s an odd feeling, knowing you’re completely alone on an island…….

As Christmas draws near, I keep thinking about the contrasts between the shopping madness in the US and what we're doing here.  It's almost surreal.

Last night I worked on translating a card that we had gotten from the Super
Gigante - the large grocery store chain in Mexico.  It was a "dialog with
god" or actually a prayer.  It was a nice reminder of all I have to be
grateful for.

Friday, December 23, 2005, Isla San Martín

We saw one lone fisherman today, out in his panga, throwing his nets in wind and fog.  I can’t imagine that kind of life.  I have SO MUCH for which to be grateful!

Today I made Jeff’s favorite cookies for his Christmas gift.  Of course, it couldn’t be a surprise, so he got to break into them fresh out of the oven.  “Nothing says ‘lovin’ like something from the oven,” he said. J

Saturday, December 24, 2005, Isla San Martín

On today’s agenda: work on Quicken file repair (ever since the crash and restoring my back-up files, two of my accounts have not been able to download from the financial institutions);  prep for tomorrow’s dinner.  On the menu: roast chiogga beet salad with bleu cheese and toasted pecans; haricot verts with lemon zest; brown rice medley with golden slivered almonds; roast pork loin stuffed with dried apricots and prunes and pan juices; tangerine chocolate tart.  I am amazed at how well the baby vegetables are holding up.  Makes me wish I had purchased more.  

Just as predicted, the wind has died somewhat, but it’s still quite foggy, which is one factor our weather charts don’t reveal.  Ironic, isn’t it, how the wind is always up when we want to anchor, and down to nothing when we want to sail?  Yes, I know, we’re supposed to sail when there’s wind; we just haven’t quite gotten into fully releasing our whims to the wind.  We wanted someplace quiet and secure to spend the 24^th and 25^th, and I feel we made a good choice.

There are only two pangas left in the cove – one which appears to be used for storage and has never gone out since we’ve been here; another that doesn’t seem to have an engine, so probably doesn’t go out much.  I hope all the fishermen are home safe and happy with their families.

Jeff took one of mom’s ponduse out of the freezer and is toasting some so we have a little bit of home this morning; the coffee is brewing; the enticing aromas are heavenly.  It feels like Christmas!

Sunday, December 25, 2005, Isla San Martín

Feliz Navidad a todos! Last night I got up to check our position; coming out from the companionway was like emerging into a black hole.  It was SO dark, SO foggy, I could not see anything beyond right where I was standing.  What an EERY feeling! 

Later during the day, the fog finally broke and the sun came out.  Jeff took that opportunity to row to the beach and burn the trash.  Similar to back home, we separate the waste by category, although instead of recycling, it’s divided according to how we dispose of it.  Once you are three miles away from land, you can dump bio-degradable matter overboard as long as it’s no bigger than one inch; that means, all our food trimmings are cut up small and kept until we’re out to sea.  The cardboard and paper products are burnable, which Jeff did today; once the fire is dead, you also bury the ashes to “leave a clean wake” as they say.  We remove both the tops and bottoms of the cans, flatten them, and they can be dumped at sea once we’re twelve miles out; they sink and eventually rust – although the aluminum cans don’t sink.  Wine bottles are broken and also dumped twelve miles out; eventually someone will collect the burnished pieces and make beach glass jewelry or some other decorative pieces. J

Garbage duty done, Jeff rowed back and we enjoyed a nice Christmas dinner.  A few cards games followed, then it was off the bed early for our long day tomorrow.

Monday, December 26, 2005, Isla San Martín to San Carlos

We were off by 0800; as typical, there was no wind until we got to the anchorage, where it kicked up to 30 knots, just about 4:30.  We took our time making sure the anchor was set, because it was looking like we were in for a rough night.  It was already dark by the time we finished anchoring – too dark for Jeff to set the snubber, which is what keeps the anchor rhode from tugging at the bow roller so much.  With the strong winds, the anchorage was really rolly, the rhode was noisy, and neither of us got much sleep. 

Finally, at 3:15 we were both awake, so we decided to weigh anchor and head for Cedros.

Tuesday, December 27, San Carlos to Isla Cedros 

By 0430 we were completely clear of the rocks and breakers at San Carlos.  I took the first watch.  The sky was still brilliantly adorned with stars, and there were no lights as far as I could see.  I sat in the cockpit watching for dark shapes – boats, rocks, anything – even though the radar was on.  Then I saw something.

A dark shape.  Round back, fin, up above the waves then down.  Now two together, up above the waves then down.  They were dolphin escorting us out.  They reminded me of black construction paper cutouts on popsicle sticks jumping above inky cardboard waves in a child’s play theater – up and down, up and down, now you see them, now you don’t.

Dawn’s break was so gentle and gradual, I hardly realized it was happening.

All that Christmas music still had its effect on me I guess because I had a hankering for popcorn.  I popped up a hot batch in a pot, and I think that’s probably the first time I’ve eaten popcorn in years without watching a movie!  It was good, too!!!  J

Need I say again, the wind piped up later in the day?  In fact it was downright snotty; the waves were even kicking up with whitecaps.  It was looking pretty bleak for anchoring.  We got in REAL close to shore though, in a bight behind the fishing village on the north east side of Cedros, and were immediately becalmed.  The water is deep all the way to shore, so we had to be selective in where we set the hook.  After a couple tries, we felt comfortable with our setting.

As soon as we shut the engine off, “the greeting committees” swam up to us.  They were tight packs of little seals – each no more than 2 feet long – and just as cute and curious as could be!  Their little bug eyes and elfin ears stuck out, their noses sniffed the air just like  Labradors. They were in constant motion, checking us out, nudging each other, rolling in the water.  Then, as if on signal, they would all dive down and play under the boat.  They would come up spurting and sputtering, to do it all over again.  They played like that for HOURS, diving on our anchor rhode and around the boat.  Lucky and Abbie were as fascinated with them as they were with us.

The mothers were lolling on the beach, sleeping like the dead.  I counted 32, though I know there were more further down because I could hear them braying.  The whole time I watched, I never saw one move into the water to “supervise” the kids.  I guess they move when they hear a baby cry, or maybe there are no predators in that area, I don’t know.  There were maybe five or six packs of these “kids,” each with at least 20 playing together.  We watched them until we could no longer distinguish their shapes, though there was a little phosphorescence in the water so we could see little flashes of neon green where they swam.

Wednesday, December 28, 2005, Isla Cedros to Bahia Tortuga

The night was exceptionally calm, and we all had a good night’s sleep.  We woke to the sounds of seals playing around our boat, sniffing and snuffling, barking and braying, blowing and bumping. One rambunctious little guy tried to jump into our dinghy, which was in the water behind the boat (we tow it when doing these day hops.)  He didn’t make it the first try, nor did he on the second try; but he managed to break our oar off the pin that was set in the oar lock - that scared him.  He swam off in one direction, the oar floated away.  Jeff had to un-tether the harness and go after it in the dinghy.  Now we’ll have to somehow try to get a replacement part for that lock; in the meantime, it will be pretty tough trying to “row the boat ashore.”

The sun was out, the day was clear, the wind was nil, the anchorage was serene; in short, it was very, very pretty.  In fact, it was hard to believe this was the same area we’d had such a hard time crossing in 2004 when we brought Musetta back up from her Baja Haha soujourn. 

Cedros is the largest island in this region, roughly 20 miles long and 10 miles wide, almost 4,000 feet high.  It is composed of craggy volcanic rock, and you can see where the flows came right down to the water.  Not counting the color and vegetation, it reminded me of the Hawaiian Islands, particularly Kauai.  According to Charlie’s Charts, It was once home to “great groves of pine, oak and junipers, the latter having been identified as ‘cedars’ by early Spanish explorers who gave the island its name.”  Gold and copper were once mined here, but today the main enterprise on the island is the salt plant and a fish fertilizer plant, both of which are located in the small town on the south side of the island.

We would have enjoyed staying there another day, but wanting to get to warmer weather, we decided to move on.  With sun, flat water, and never a boat in sight, we both grew lazy and sat in the cockpit reading our books.  I was finishing up John Irving’s A Prayer for Owen Meany and hated to put it down - fantastic book!!  So we were surprised to have company.  It seemed like the panga appeared at our side out of nowhere! The three fishermen were all dressed in foul weather gear, so they must have been out from the night before or early morning.  They asked if we had water for them, which we readily gave.  In return, they wanted to give us lobster – oh gee, how tough is that?  We tossed our canvas bucket at the end of a line over to them; it came back brimming with four huge fresh spiny lobsters.  THIS is more like the Mexico we remember!  We couldn’t wait to get in and cook them!  Then, as quickly as they appeared, the fishermen were gone.  We scanned the horizon carefully, trying to spot them, but were never able to see them again.

But wait – how do we keep the lobsters?  Well, they live in salt water, maybe we’d better put them in a bucket of salt water.  Out came my little washing machine – basically a bucket on a motor housing that agitates the contents of the bucket.  That was about noon.  About 1500 I started thinking about those lobsters.  I CAN’T just drop them live into a pot of boiling water.  “Jeff, you’ll have to kill them.  I can’t do it!”   I’m such a hypocrite – I eat fish, fowl, and animals, but I can’t stand to kill them!  We discussed various theories on cooking live shellfish, and decided to consult my old standby, The Joy of Cooking before we did anything.  We arrived at Turtle Bay about 4:30, just in time to anchor and set the snubber before dark.  Another panguero came up to us and asked if we wanted fuel; we told him to come back tomorrow – we wanted to eat dinner pronto!

Jeff fired up the barbeque while I par-boiled some sweet potatoes for grilling, and got out THE book to read up on how to kill and clean the lobsters.  UH - OH!  Guess I should have gotten it out earlier – it said not to store the lobsters in water; they’ll die; just put them in the refrigerator.  I went back to the cockpit and checked the bucket; sure enough, they were dead.  Did they drown or suffocate? I don’t know.  Do they have to move around like fish??  I don’t know.  Am I the only one who doesn’t know that lobsters can’t live in water???  We cooked them anyway, but the meat was mushy and a bit fishy tasting – not fresh and sweet like it should be.  Ah well, now we learned.  

Thursday, December 29, 2005, Bahia Tortuga

Another calm evening and good night’s sleep.  This morning I gave the kids a bath in the cockpit.  They were both well behaved, and I think were grateful to be clean.  When they relieve themselves on the deck, the urine splatters up on their legs and sometimes they walk back through the puddle.  I’ve started sloshing their feet in a bucket of water before they come back into the cockpit, but they don’t particularly like getting wet feet either.  Poor babies, I don’t blame them.  But they’re happy now.  It’s sunny, and even pleasantly warm enough to wear capris and sandals.

Rubén, the patron (owner) of the fuel barge came around 1000 to fill our tanks.  He also hauled away a bag of garbage for us, and asked for water (I think no one likes to drink the city water.)   He gave us a bag of fresh fish filets, cleaned and ready to cook – the bag is in the refrigerator, NOT a bucket of water – and had his employees bring us some fresh eggs, milk and bread. We’re set to leave again whenever we feel like.

Saturday, December 31, 2005, Bahia Tortuga to Asunción

Today was special.  We left Turtle Bay about 0730, again with no wind, but half way through our passage, we were invaded by the most humongous pod of dolphin I’ve ever seen!  We could see them from hundreds of yards out, from every angle -360 degrees around the boat – and they were all closing in on us as the target at a ferocious pace.  Their speed was astounding, and their numbers unfathomable.  Some leaped entirely out of the water, some barely broke the surface.  But it was as if each one had to have at least one chance to ride our bow.  I caught one group of five, leaping in perfect synchronization, the one farthest from the boat the highest out of the water, and each animal just slightly lower than his neighbor, so that from my vantage they were canted up perfectly.  For one brief instant, their stream-lined gray bodies were pasted against the deep blue water background like an art deco frieze.  They were simply stunning.

The pod kept swimming towards us for about 35 minutes before their numbers thinned.  Even 45 minutes from when we first spotted them, there were stragglers bringing up the rear. What a magnificent show!

As typical, by the time we were at the anchorage, the wind had notched up to close to 20 knots, but we had good protection behind the bluff. Lucky has finally gotten into the swing of things.  He no longer freaks out when we set sail, and has learned to go potty in the morning and evenings on deck without much prompting.  Thank goodness!  Old guys just take a little longer to adapt. J

Asunción is just a small village with a cannery, some fishing, and not much else.  It’s at least four hours on a dirt road from the main highway, and there’s nothing else around it.  The village is totally isolated.  They do have power, though whether by generator or via lines I couldn’t tell.  Since it was New Years Eve, the village was lit up at night, and the fiesta music streamed across the water.  The lights reflecting in the bay were so pretty.

Jeff and I celebrated by having a couple cocktails, though since it was the first hard liquor both of us had in over three months, we were both flying high after the first one!  We toasted our good fortune, you our dear family and friends, and our new adventures.  At this point, it still seems like an extended vacation.  I can’t quite get my mind around the fact that this is our life!  It’s surreal.